Speak to Me
by HelloTimeBomb
Summary: Greg has a rocky history that gets him attacked, causing him to temporarily lose the ability to speak. GrissomGreg frndshp and SaraGreg frndshp. Story has been abandoned.
1. Discoveries

**A/N: I'm not abandoning the other story, I swear. I just really wanted to start this one. This plot bunny has been poking me in the back of my head for weeks. It's getting annoying, so I gotta get at least a chapter down. That bunny has sharp claws, damnit!**

"First case of the year. Fresh off the press," said Sara holding a crisp, white piece of paper in her hands.

"I wonder if it'll be different, somehow. Ya know, _special_," said Greg, while making a gesture with both hands.

"They're all special. In their own little ways," she said handing the paper off to him.

He took it gingerly, "Yeesh, you sound like a 1st grade teacher talking about her students,"

She leaned against the break room table with her hands in her pockets, "Puh-lease. Teachers don't get a fat enough paycheck to talk about their students like that. They _tell_ them their special, but that's not actually how they feel,"

"Now you're just stereotyping. Plus, it's not like _we _get immense paychecks, either,"

A small grin on her face, she narrowed her eyes, "…Touché,"

"Yeah, that's right. Eat it,"

"Hmm, and here I thought you were maturing. But no, you're in fact, regressing,"

"Oh yeah? Well… I'll regress _you_,"

"What? That doesn't even makes sense,"

"…Maybe I just went over your head. Ever think about _that_?" he said, cocking his head.

"Now who would ever think that? That's just crazy talk," she said smiling smugly at him. "Speaking of crazy talk, I've had enough of it. Let's get this show on the road,"

"Alright, what do we got here?" he said quietly, referring to the paper. "D.B. at a motel. Very original,"

"Don't bitch. This is the job of your dreams. Remember, champ?"

He got up from the chair he was sitting in and stretched. "I remember,"

They arrived at the dark and dingy motel half an hour later. The words "Masterford's Motel" were displayed at the front in tacky pink florescent lights with a few letters left unlit. The parking lot contained about 4 or 5 cars and there were bits of garbage strewn all over the ground. There was a dodgy-looking guy standing against a wall to the left of the crime scene, silently observing the happenings with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, casting an eerie shadow on his face. He'd be questioned later, no doubt. The air smelled of urine and smoke. Altogether, not a very inviting environment.

Vega walked slowly towards them with a somber look on his face. When he reached them he greeted them "Sidle. Sanders," They nodded in return. "It's not the prettiest of sights in there. There's blood all over the place. Slit throat,"

"Do we have an ID on the body?" asked Sara, to which Vega shook his.

"Nothing," he turned, leading them to the scene: room 15. The rooms had the same smell as the parking lot. The two entered and digested their surroundings. Furniture was tipped over, lamps were broken; there was a struggle. On the floor beside the bed, lying in a pool of blood was a thin, young woman. David was already there waiting for them to arrive.

"Rigor mortis isn't set; she hasn't been dead long," said David when he looked up to see them. The woman's body was tilted to the side; her blonde hair was spread across her face. Her clothes were grunge style and she had a lot of jewelry.

"She can't be more than 25 years old," Sara observed, taking a few pictures.

Greg furrowed his brow. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this in the pit of his stomach. Something seemed wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. David lifted one of the girl's hands gently,

"A whole lot of defensive wounds," and right he was. There were multiple cuts on her hands and arms. "She was definitely not willing to go easily,"

Sara looked up from her work to see Greg standing, staring at the body with a confused look on his face. "Hey Greg? You gonna dig in or just stand there?"

He snapped out of his trance, "Sorry," he said quietly, then proceeded in taking a few shots with his camera. She cast a raised eyebrow in his direction and shook her head.

After a couple shots had been taken from just about every angle, Sara pulled her camera away from her face. "Alright David, can you turn her? Let's get some pictures of the wound that did her in" He nodded and did so. Her hair cascaded off of her face and neck in the process, revealing her slit throat. Sara continued on taking pictures.

"One quick, deep slash to her neck," she commented.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Greg sink to his knees. She turned her head towards him. He was staring directly into the victim's eyes.

"Greg?" she said, confused. He didn't answer.

"Greg?" She said more loudly. "What is it?" Was this his first slit throat, or something? This certainly isn't the worst they'd seen.

His hands were shaking noticeably as he brought them to his face. He cleared his throat and said in a shaky voice,

"I… I can identify the body," Sara sat staring at him confused and surprised. Greg swallowed and said solemnly,

"She's… my sister, Liv,"


	2. Help

**A/N: First off, thank you all for the reviews! I always love reviews. You're all fabulous. I'm know I haven't updated in an squillion years, but I've got butt-loads of time on my hands now. I'm not _too _happy with how this story started off, but I'm working on improving my techniques. Practice makes perfect, right? So yes. Bear with me whilst I start out with. I know it's not the best… now, shall we? (btw, spoilers for Nesting Dolls… most have seen it, but just a heads up.)**

"What?" she asked Greg. If this was one of his jokes, it wasn't very funny at all. A young woman had died.

"I said… she's my sister," his voice breaking when he said the last few words. He turned his head away from her and David. The two of them glanced at each other for a moment, David with his mouth open slightly. Sara then looked down at the women's face and recognized the resemblance. He definitely wasn't joking around. She turned to Greg slowly… she felt like she should say something. Comfort him. Anything but just sit there. Before she could do anything Greg stood up quickly and ran out of the room. She glanced one last time at the body before following after him. It sent a shiver down her spine to imagine... no… to _remember_, at least faintly, how Greg was feeling. She had been through it before. Staring down at the body of a loved one. Seeing them unmoving and covered with blood. She shook her head as if to stray it of the ghastly image while walking through the door quickly. She stood on the cement step and looked around the parking lot, only seeing some squad cars, cops and Brass questioning the shifty man with the cigarette.

"Hey" said one of the cops standing beside the door, startling her. "You lookin' for that newbie?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," she said quietly, eyes still searching.

"He's over there," he said pointing over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the side of the motel. He spoke again, "Pukin' his guts out. I guess he couldn't handle it," he said with a grin. Sara glared at him and muttered a thank you. She began walking cautiously along side the wall lined with doors and graffiti. As she did so, she heard the familiar sound of retching and decided to wait till it stopped. She tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned against the brick wall, trying not to think about how horrible it all was. That choking feeling you got in your throat accompanied by a gnawing feeling in your stomach…

She heard the sounds stop and took a deep breath while she rounded the corner. He was leaning against the wall, his hands threaded through his hair, breathing heavily.

"Greg… are you alright?" she said, advancing steadily.

He didn't answer, but she knew he'd heard her. He brought his shaking hands to his side lifted himself from the wall, wiping his eyes hastily.

"No. I'm not alright. My sister is fucking dead," he said bitterly. She was surprised at his tone. It was cold and mean and didn't suit him. She swallowed hard.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's horrible… horrible that somebody could do that to anyone. I… I know what you must be feeling right now…" she said staring at the ground.

"You know, do you?" he said suddenly. "I don't think you know at all, Sara. You _don't_. You've never seen your sister's throat slit all the way down to the cerebral column, her head nearly all the way off. You don't fucking _know_ Sara," he said getting louder with every word. She hated seeing him like this. She didn't even think it was possible for him to raise his voice: easy-going Greg. He was staring straight at her now. Waiting… for what? For her to say something. She didn't know how to respond to that. It made her angry and broke her heart at the same time. She sniffed and walked closer to him.

"Okay, so I've never had a sister… I don't know what it'd be like to see her like that…" she said quietly, walking even closer so she was only standing a few feet away from him… deciding on what to say next. She looked up at him, her eyes dark, "I could've had a sister if my father hadn't died. If I hadn't witnessed him being killed. So don't tell me what I know, Greg. I've felt it before," she said, holding back tears. He was visibly surprised to hear that bit of news. He put his hands into his pockets, opening his mouth to say something, but stopped. He was ashamed at what he had said earlier. It was true; he rarely raised his voice and hated it when he did. They stood there for a few minutes, silent.

"Sorry," Greg stammered finally. "I'm really sorry. I'm not like this… rarely am. It was just… I can't bear it. Seeing her like that. She was always so fun and energetic and to see her… dead, eyes glazed over... She didn't even get to live her life. She was only 21… just about to graduate from university. She could've gotten any job she wanted, hell, she was smarter than me..." he paused, and then started up again very quietly. Sara had to lean closer to hear the words, "I can't believe he would just kill her," is what she thought she heard. He began to speak a little louder. "He had always said it was going to be like this. But we didn't believe him," he was speaking through new tears and Sara was getting very puzzled. Who was _he_? "He told us. And I didn't do anything. Not a thing… and now she's dead and it's my fault… everything. He'll be coming after me, now. I don't know what to do about this, Sara,"

He was almost sobbing now. She placed a hand on his shoulder softly, not knowing what else to do. She didn't quite know what he was talking about, but decided she'd ask questions later. Just let him get it out now. What he was saying worried her. Somebody was… after him? It didn't make sense. He lifted his head, his dark brown eyes shining with tears.

"You've got to… help me. Please… Sara. I need you to," he said between choked breaths. The defeated look on his face made her want to weep.

"I will. I'll help you through this, I promise," she told him. All he could do was nod in response. She slowly wrapped her arms around him and let his head rest on her shoulder as he pulled himself together. As she ran a hand through his hair she knew she wouldn't let anything happen to him…


End file.
